Chapter 8: With Initial Escape
‘The power to grant or take away freedom is the purest form of power. However, when enough is taken, men become beasts and their taming becomes nearly impossible.’ Philosophical Lessons from Utyirth (Volume II: Scholar).
1
Initium Keep was a bastion attesting to the power of the Scylds, the northern zealots. Ever since Ganis had arrived at Utyirth, she had only heard stories of the Scylds, never coming upon any before her failed attempt to spy on them.
While she, clad in her leather armor, investigated the prison camp, she noticed peering eyes upon her. Her attire made her stand out, and she started gaining the unwanted attention of the prisoners with enough life in them to care. She had to discard them, as dear as they were.
The stench of a rotting corpse guided her behind a big slab of grey rock, where suitable clothing was ready, dressing one of the many deceased once-workers around her.
Within a few moments, Ganis had removed all of Thalia’s gifts and stowed them away – the last objects she had linking her to the Ona. I never belonged anyway. After covering the hole she had dug to hide her belonging, Ganis returned to her investigation. She looked back briefly, checking how well she concealed her equipment, and gasped.
She quickly found a stream of broken workers, walking aimlessly towards their duties. An odd combination of action and intent, Ganis though. Her past, after all, appeared to have been much more pleasant than she thought it was, now that she saw what suffering the complex workers went through.
She spotted one of the prisoners, not as broken as the other, and yanked his dirty brown sleeve. The man looked at her and she asked, “Where are we?”
“Initium Keep.” He then looked ahead, ignoring her as he followed the denizens of catatonic workers,
An awe-inspiring view of Initium Keep met Ganis as the path curved with the prisoners. A mighty keep, rivaling a large Nosgardian town and dwarfing any keep Ganis had ever seen, stood atop a mountain.
Tall stone walls encircled the gargantuan structure, making the keep seem impenetrable. The labyrinth of walls spiraled, layers and layers of defensive barriers to halt any intruder, until they reached the high structure.
Initium Keep was fashioned to match the magnitude of beings far larger than even the Highborn, a troubling structure when occupied by a hostile force, and what a force it could hold.
Ganis’ wonderment came to an abrupt end - before she could shrug off the impression Initium Keep had left upon her to study the complex – when the path led the marching wave into the labyrinth of stone leading to the keep.
The sound of working men, shouts of coordination, and steel hitting stone rung louder the closer she got to the site marked by wooden scaffolds. Hammers hit thick iron nails into wood and stone, and the stench of sweat glided through the air. An occasional scream brought to an abrupt end signaled an accident, and the reaction of the workers gauged how common the occurrence was. If Ganis believed in hell, that would be it.
Wherever Ganis looked, she saw guards observing the prisoners from atop the completed segments of the large walls the prisoners built. Wooden watchtowers appeared at every corner of the incomplete sections, with even more guards atop them.
A watchtower was being taken apart, carefully disassembled by the workers, at one of the sections of the wall that had been recently completed. The workers cannibalized the watchtowers to make up for the damaged wood from the disassembled scaffolds. What they lacked in resource, they made up for in resourcefulness.
Then the crowd led Ganis to where new slabs where being carefully placed to extend the wall. Two dozen guards, armed with maces and pikes, served the workers small meals in return for wooden coins Ganis had never seen before.
On the march, still amidst the helpless crowd, Ganis saw four guards brutally handle a malnourished prisoner. They tossed a wooden coin – the prisoner’s - to one another and taunted the prisoner with it. Every time he came close to one of the guards, the guard would pass it to another, driving the tortured prisoner back and forth, wasting energy he could not afford.
The crowd’s final destination, a quarry at the side of a mountain that would undoubtedly be leveled upon the completion of the wall, was marked by dozens of guards patrolling a clearing and thousands of prisoners carving large slabs of stone out of the mountain.
A group of prisoners dragged their stones, each dragging his own, to a station where an officer - Ganis judged from his attire, same to the others in all respects save for a grey cloak and a sheathed sword - sat on a wooden table with an opened chest, filled with wooden coins, at his feet.
Whenever a man approached him with a slab, the officer examined it and gave him a single wooden coin if he deemed the slab satisfactory. Most prisoners got their coins, but a few were forced to sculpt their slab some more, and even fewer were forced to abandon the endeavor, quarrying another slab entirely.
“To work!” a guard commanded, and the prisoners scattered, each to find an empty spot to earn his wage, a wooden coin to be exchanged for food.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” a voice erupted from behind Ganis. She looked around and saw a tall muscular man, seemingly unaffected by the harsh conditions of his sentence, smiling at her. “Are new to this Gehennam?”
Ganis nodded. It has been a long time since she had a conversation with someone real. It felt a little strange for her and, somehow, she was embarrassed.
“Oh, where are my manners.” The man wiped his hands on his once-white cloth shirt, and extended it. “I’m Prometh.”
Ganis shook his hand. “And I Ganis.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ganis. Have you been here for long?”
“Years, I believe.” Ganis did not know how long she had spent in the Pits of Carcer, yet years felt as an accurate estimate, even accounting for the slowness of how time felt.
“Strange.” Prometh rubbed his chin, squinting as he strained his memory. “How is it that we haven’t met before?”
“I was thrown in the Pits of Carcer,” Ganis said, casually. She had forgotten, for the briefest of moments, that none ever emerged from such fate. Years spent alone dulled her mind. It was a mistake.
Prometh’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Impossible! No one has ever returned after being condemned.”
He speaks true, Ganis thought. I suppose telling him my truth can do little more harm now. “Go see for yourself.”
“How?”
Ganis shrugged. There was a limit to what she was willing to reveal.
“I understand,” Prometh said. “A friendly advice, my own wooden coin, is for you to keep this between us. I promise to keep your secret safe, but others might not be so kind.” He turned around to check for anyone who overheard Ganis’ revelation. “I must see it with my own eyes.”
“And I will accompany you.”
The guards did not concern themselves with what the prisoners did, except for violence directed against them, and knew that their need for sustenance would make them work or die. It was an easy task, and they reveled in the opportunity of doing the little that they did, an ideal stance for them to adopt in lieu of Ganis’ investigation.
2
Prometh stood atop the ruins, contemplating the causes of such devastation. “How did you manage this?”
“Does it matter?” Ganis stared at Prometh intently.
Prometh smiled, “So you are a quick learner.”
Ganis nodded. She eyed Prometh closely as he walked around and looked at the destruction her newfound ability allowed her. Whenever the man stopped for a moment to focus on a particular part of the rubble that attracted his attention, Ganis would scan the area for any suspicious figures watching them.
Ganis had not gathered any information about the Scylds, and even less about Initium Keep, it put her in a precarious position and alerted her to many actions she mistakenly deemed as suspicious; a prisoner walking by with his pick on his back; a woman whispering to her delusiona
l self; a crow fixated on her.
“In all my five years here, I haven’t seen the hatch unprotected even once.”
Five years? “Then we should expect some guards soon.”
“Aye, but not too soon. They change shifts twice a day, and the last shift changed not too long ago.” The man then folded the sleeves of his shirt, revealing strong forearms, and started descending into the dark pit.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the uniforms.” He vanished into a darkness Ganis’ eyes could no longer pierce. She waited patiently for him to return, crouching at the edge of the hole while watching for any unwelcomed eyes peering at her. Her suspicion of the prisoners faded the longer she watched them.
Then Prometh appeared, with two sets of guard uniforms. “Will you help me up?”
Ganis offered him a hand and eased his struggle. When he had completely emerged, she asked, “What possible use can you have for these?”
He smiled at her and raised one finger, pointing it towards the sky. “I’ll tell you one secret in exchange for one of your own.”
“I hope this counts.” She gestured at the pit.
“Aye, it counts.” spreading the uniforms on the ground, Prometh said, “I’m part of an underground resistance here in Initium Keep. You just gave us what we needed to infiltrate the guards.”
An opportunity. “And a good hideout, it seems.”
Prometh eyed the rubble. “Only if we can fix this mess.” He then took a moment to himself, staring at the spread uniforms. “I’ve an idea. Stay here.” Prometh hasted back to where Ganis and he had come from, towards the quarry.
For some time Ganis waited, feeling at ease knowing that the guards would not appear. She had grown accustomed to the prisoners around her, walking idly, minding their own.
Once more Prometh returned, with two other prisoners and a large iron-reinforced wooden plank, an exact replica of the one she destroyed, with a few differences from the natural patterns and spots the wood bore.
“Who are these?” she asked.
“They’re with the resistance.”
The men huddled to cover the opening, it was badly damaged, but they quickly produced tools and material to repair it.
Prometh stood still, watching the two prisoners work, giving them directions every once in a while. He turned to look at Ganis and noticed her expression, she was surprised. “The men here have been working with stone and wood everyday for years. We’ve become quite adept at working the material.”
Quite adept indeed, Ganis thought. “It will still look different, you know.”
“The guards do not care much about what happens here. They’ll keep to themselves unless something’s broken, or they’ve been explicitly ordered to do so. All we need to ensure is that it doesn’t look too different and that it functions.”
“Tell me, Prometh, do you know anything about a man called Naa’tas?”
Prometh smiled and shrugged.
“I forgot the agreement: a secret for a secret.” She hesitated for a moment. I wonder what happened with the Parthans. I hope I do not reveal too much from whatever part of the plan they have not executed yet. “I came here with nine outsiders from Nosgard, a land far from here, with the intention of finding Naa’tas.”
“If what you say is true, perhaps we can help one another.”
The other two men slowed the pace of their work. They were listening.
“Naa’tas,” said Prometh, “arrived to Scyldur three dozen seasons ago. He claimed to be a high priest of Rayogin. After proving that he possessed the gift of the god, he declared that his resurrection could be attained with the completion of a two-part ritual. The first was to build a keep fit for Rayogin, and the second was to purge the lands from the non-believers. Naa’tas claimed that the god would return once the ritual was completed to his satisfaction.
“The men who captured us are followers of Rayogin, and they believe Naa’tas’ claim and that they can only attain salvation from their forefathers’ sins against Rayogin by allowing him to exact his punishment directly on them. By sacrificing themselves in his service they allow themselves into Gehenna, the afterlife where the faithful go.”
“Have your people always been so pious?” asked Ganis.
“My people?” Prometh was offended at the confusion. “I’m not a Scyld, most of those who were sent here died many seasons ago, when the incarceration of non-believers began.” He stood proudly as he announced, “I’m a Forhavener.” He pointed at the two men digging. “And so are they.”
“My apologies for the confusion, Prometh.”
“No apologies necessary, Ganis from Nosgard.”
Once the two Forhaveners completed their task, repairing the hatch and concealing the damage Ganis had caused with impressive craftsmanship, they changed into the Guardsmen’s attire, cleaning the blood from Ganis’ assault as best as they could by rubbing some dirt and water on the stained areas.
They claimed that it would not be difficult to explain the stains by some disciplinary act they administered on a rebelling prisoner, or one who simply crossed paths with them at a bad time.
Five more men, with wood and cloth for torches were summoned and asked to enter the Pits of Carcer, to ensure that none of the prisoners sent there would emerge and alert the real guards about the situation. They were told to take any action necessary, but encouraged to keep the banished unharmed.
Then it was time for night, and for Prometh to return to his supposed duties. Promises to introduce her to the resistance convinced Ganis to join him, even though her mind wandered at the prospect of finding a suitable meal.
3
Prometh had some duties to attend to, an excuse he used to part from Ganis before taking her to meet the resistance. The hunger she felt relieved her with his absence, yet his behavior made her mind wander to places of distrust and betrayal.
Carrying her pickaxe, Ganis proceeded to quarry some stone and get some wooden coins for herself, a currency she might find useful, but had no real need for.
Quarrying gave her an excuse to be close enough to some prisoners to eavesdrop on their conversations, and close enough to observe the guards. She knew how necessary it was for her to understand the order or work to be able to blend in.
In time, far longer than it took the other able prisoners, Ganis had prepared a slab to present to the officer. When it was ready to transport, she grabbed some of the ropes which lay around and tied them together to pull her slab to the officer.
Her enhanced constitution and strength made the endeavor easy, yet she needed to demonstrate how much she struggled not to attract attention. She slowed her act and tried to seem struggling. The poor act was sufficient to fool the uninterested guards and workers.
As she headed towards the officer’s desk, a conversation between two guards caught her interest.
“You heard about the last regiment?” a deep sounded guard asked.
“Let me guess,” another replied, “they raided the village and killed some heretics, but on their way back, they came across some difficulties and suffered a few casualties.”
“This time it was an all out skirmish, I hear, against an organized force. The nerve of these heretics surprises me.”
“Careful Vaide, thoughts of admiration risk sowing the seeds of faithlessness. You know the teachings of Rayogin well enough not to make such mistakes.”
Vaide hesitated. He wiped his forehead clean from the sweat that had gathered from the guard’s accusation. “You know me. I’m among the most devoted, loving and fearing followers of Rayogin. You have witnessed me pray and know how committed I become when I do so.”
Laughing menacingly, the guard said, “Don’t worry, Vaide, I was simply joking. We all know how strong your faith is.” He roughly patted Vaide on the back, producing three loud thumps.
“The incidents in the south concern me, Zelo. We’re losing some good Rayogin-fearing men to the heathens. I hear that even their hounds crave th
e flesh of our faithful brothers and don’t hesitate to hunt a lost soldier of Rayogin. Only he can save us now.” Vaide looked at the sky and gestured a brief ritual, patting his head twice then kissing his index finger.
“I share your worries regarding the southern people, brother. Your resolve must not falter. The more you endure and suffer in the name of Rayogin, the better you are rewarded. Remember this and your worries will turn into a much needed anger to strike down those godless bastards,” Zelo said, his tone thickened with anger at the mention of the ‘godless bastards’.
“Let’s return our attention to the worldly matters which we neglect far too often. Have you seen the two new recruits guarding the Pits of Carcer? Their replacements were supposed to relieve them by now.”
“I suppose the new commander is testing their conviction.”
“Brother, do not allow your misfortunate assignment here to affect your sense of compassion towards your brothers and sisters. I’ll go check on them once my shift ends in an hour.”
Having known that the guard called Vaide intended to check on the two new recruits and knowing that there was a chance that he had been previously acquainted with them, Ganis rushed to find Prometh and inform him about the untimely inspection.
Prometh was nowhere to be seen. She followed Vaide to the Pits of Carcer, and kept a watchful eye on him as he engaged the two imposters. After exchanging a few pleasantries, they shook hands and Vaide returned to his duties. Her worries were misplaced. Prometh’s men, it seemed to her, were far more capable than she judged them to be.
She then returned to her slab and, unexpectedly, found no trace of it. At the realization that it was stolen, Ganis lowered her head and cracked a chuckle. So many things had gone wrong in these past many seasons that such a misfortune seemed to be nothing more than a laughing matter.
Her pickaxe, at least, lay where she had left it. She picked it up and returned to quarry yet another slab. This time she did not leave it until she exchanged it for a wooden coin. She looked at the coin disappointed at the cheap cost of her labor, and tucked it in her sleeve.
4
For two more days Ganis had not heard of Prometh. She continued to quarry stones and collect coin, at least twice a day, and tried to acquaint herself with Initium Keep, and was more intent on doing so with the prisoners, yet she failed on the later.
She would return to the Pits of Carcer from time to time to see if the two imposter prisoners had returned. Only two days later, after her mind started wandering with many things that made her doubt Prometh’s claims, did she know what had become of Prometh’s fate.
From the Pits of Carcer, once the imposter prisoners returned, Prometh appeared. It seemed that he had gone underneath for some reason without informing Ganis of his actions. She knew that it would take him time to convene with the resistance so keen on maintaining secrecy.
Ganis approached the two prisoners, greeting them with a nod, and said, “Prometh, for a moment there I thought you intended to betray me. What happened?”
He dusted himself, producing a generous grey cloud, smiled at Ganis and said, “The men below hadn’t been given sufficient food to last them long enough until Aliis and Aliud returned.” He pointed at the two disguised prisoners as he called their names. “I had to make certain that they wouldn’t starve before then, and barely managed to enter before the shifts changed.”
“You did well.” She reached into her sleeve, produced seven wooden coins and tossed them to Aliis, the thinner Forhavener. He caught them with ease and stowed them in his pocket. “I have no need for those. Use them to make certain whoever remains within the Pits of Carcer gets food.”
Aliis nodded in approval. “I’ll let them know it came from you, Ganis from Nosgard.”
“You do that.” She returned her attention to Prometh. “Have you spoken to the others about me?”
“Aye. They weren’t entirely keen on trusting you, but you cannot blame those damned scorpions for what they are.”
“Scorpions?”
Prometh rubbed his head. He remembered that Ganis was an outsider, not only from Forhaven, but also from Utyirth, something that lost more meaning the longer he kept in Initium Keep. “It‘s an old saying of ours. The nature of the scorpion to sting makes him blameless for the act, even if the scorpion stings one who helped him.”
“I see.” If the use of such idioms continued, Ganis knew she would have trouble hiding her identity when addressed by strangers unsympathetic to the case of the resistance. “What else did they say?”
“They agreed, upon the condition that I bear the responsibility of your actions, a bargain I gladly struck. What about you? Have you discovered anything of note?”
How could I? “No. I spent the last days worrying about you revealing my identity. I was mistaken.”
Prometh laughed, Aliis and Aliud joining him. “This, Ganis from Nosgard, was entirely my mistake. It could’ve been prevented with a little more foresight from my part.” He then looked at the other two prisoners. “What have you discovered?”
Aliud, coarse voice indicating years of smoking, said, “Luck was with us. The guards you disposed of were among a batch of new recruits, and we were quickly assumed to be them. They made introductions yesterday, allowing us to fabricate whatever story we told them of our past, but nothing more.”
“So things do go well every once in a while. Have you found anything we can use? Perhaps plans or a conversation you overheard?”
“Not yet. We were preoccupied with trying to maintain our identities secret and hoped not to get too much attention, knowing that we already stood out because of our Forhaven heritage. We do look different from the Scylds, you know.”
It was true. Ganis had noticed some of the prisoners shared common characteristics, some in the way they looked and others by their accents, but what gave away the Forhaveners the most was the way they carried themselves, walking with a sense of pride in spite of their situation.
”Prometh,” Ganis said, interrupting his interrogation of the two Forhaveners, “there is one request I would like to make.”
“Aye.” All three looked at her intently.
“In the Pits of Carcer lies an ancient library. I did my best to hide it, at least the entrance I made, and I am certain that you will find it, even if I was not to tell you about it. I ask that the resistance protect it, perhaps it is too much for me to ask now, but it will be important once it is time to rebuild.”
“We Midlanders live simple lives. Seldom do we attempt a scholarly path, or even that of war, but our time here in Initium Keep led us to understand just how valuable knowledge is against a stronger foe. It’s the way we continue to survive given the impossible odds stacked against us. If you, Ganis from Nosgard, believe that this library you speak of is of value, then we’ll protect it until the day you come back, or die trying.”
“I will trust that you keep it safe, Prometh.” Ganis opened the hatch, ignoring off the tensing of the two Forhavener guards behind her. “Come, let me show you.”
The prisoners did their work well. Tilted holes in the cavern’s stone were carved as placeholders for torches providing illumination. The lighting only revealed the horror of the contents within the cave. Countless bones of victims lay scattered on the ground, some in poorer condition than others, but all pushed out of the paths the prisoners cleared.
Some dried blood marked the grey stone next to the hatch, whatever was not blown away from it by Ganis’ deed, marked the failed attempts of prisoners to claw their way out, grazing their bloodied nails and fingers on the wall.
And endless twisted tunnels of all sizes were produced from many different segments of the walls, some tunnels started and ended below Ganis’ knee, while others were far high, beyond her reach without aid. In spite of all the time she spent there, even after discovering the hidden library, she had never tried to discover the caverns beyond her initial attempt. It made her wonder.
“Where’s this library?” Pr
ometh asked, interrupting Ganis’ observation.
“Follow me.” Ganis walked towards the wall she had covered. Rubble and a large stone blocked the path, covering the library better than Ganis had remembered it was. She pushed the obstruction, a feat requiring strength Prometh had thought was beyond Ganis, and revealed the dark hall.
“It must take four strong men to do what you just did alone.” Prometh walked towards the large stone, keenly examining its proportions. He pushed on it twice using both arms and the strength of his feet, but it never bulged. He looked at Ganis, suspiciously, and said, “You haven’t told me how you managed to escape?”
“My people are resourceful, Prometh. As I am certain you still guard some secrets from me, I wish you to respect my own secrecy.”
“I haven’t done any such thing.”
“Then how come I have not yet met any of the resistance’s leaders?”
Prometh smiled, swinging his head twice, saying, “Is it really that surprising. We met but a few days ago, Ganis from Nosgard. We haven’t survived this long here in Initium Keep by being so trusting.”
“I understand.” As Ganis was about to walk into the hall, she caught a strange feeling. A current of air that should not be touched the bare skin of her neck. She looked back and followed the source, ignoring Prometh’s inquiries.
“What is it?” Prometh asked.
Ganis raised a finger, as if requesting silence, and crouched towards the source. The current led her out of the hall and into one of the dark tunnels with unlit torches, but with torches nonetheless. She walked, Prometh’s pleas growing more anxious. What is he hiding from me?
“Where are you going? The library is the other way.”
Ganis continued to walk and came to an abrupt halt. A tunnel she has not seen before - or at least the beginning of one. Five pickaxes lay ready, resting on the wall, and a large wooden bucket, half filled with rubble. “You are trying to dig your way out of here.”
Prometh’s eyes widened, the two Forhaven guards behind him, arms falling on the maces hanging from their belts. “I guess this is one secret I’ll not be able to keep from you,” he said.
Ganis nodded. She eyed the two guards wearily, knowing that even unarmed the odds favored her.
“The resistance is, indeed, alive and well, but it’s also quite small. We number less than twenty.” Prometh raised his arm to relieve the guards. They eagerly complied. It appeared that they feared Ganis, but only stood against her out of loyalty to Prometh.
“Well I believe it will do little harm for me to reveal that there is a plot to destroy Scyldur.” She pointed towards the exit. “You must have overheard the guards speak of trouble in the south.”
Prometh remained still, but Aliis’ and Aliud’s expressions betrayed them. They had known about the troubles, at least heard of them.
“I told you before that I came here to find Naa’tas, but I have not said what were our plans to overcome the army of Scylds protecting him.” She started walking, brushing past Prometh and the two guards without resistance. They followed her to the library.
On the way she continued, “The Midland villages stand to lose the most from our plan, but they also stand to gain the most. Hearthdale, Riverfell, Crest Valley, Forhaven and even the smaller villages will be caught in the wake of destruction bought upon Utyirth by Naa’tas’ plans.”
Prometh and the others tensed at the mention of Forhaven. Ganis had caught their attention.
“And now is the time to strike,” Ganis continued, “for if the Midland villages tally any longer, they will not have another chance.”
“The Midlanders have lived for many generations by avoiding conflict with the Scylds,” Prometh said. “Why change this now?”
“Because for all these generations never did the raids become as common as now, and never did they have the Highborn with them.”
“The Highborn?” Prometh’s eyes widened. The mere mention of them made the two guards uneasy.
“Yes, the Highborn. They were persuaded to join the fight, persuaded by us, the Nosgardians.”
“The Highborn would never accept such an alliance.”
“Then explain the problems the Scylds have been having.” Ganis’ challenge went unanswered. She knew that Prometh and his men were aware of some troubles in the outside world, but they never knew the details.
“Prometh,” she continued, “it will not be long until war touches Forhaven. Even if you manage an escape, the Scylds will come after you.” She paused, allowing the thought to sink in. “Unless you are willing to join the fight.”
Prometh looked up at Ganis, eyes wide and conflicted between hope and despair. He turned to face Aliis and Aliud, in turn. They both nodded at him, conveying their support. “What can we do?”
Now is my chance. “Organize a sizable resistance and help us battle the Scylds on two fronts instead of one.” She turned around and gestured. “We will need to finish this tunnel though.”
5
The resistance, aided by Ganis, made significant progress in raising their numbers. Prometh had spies sent to infiltrate different prisoner groups, none of which had any more than a handful of captives, and recruit them into their fold.
Within merely a season, the resistance’s numbers swelled to a few hundreds. There were many captives, mostly Midland villages, who were eager to join the cause. News of the Midland-Highborn army became Aliis’ primary responsibility, while Aliud was tasked with studying the guards.
Ganis spent her time aiding with the tunnels, contributing greatly to the structure, and helping Prometh organize the different tasks. She was, after all, the only soldier among them, a trait which made her the most qualified.
Hope had returned to the prisoners of Initium Keep, or at least those aware of the resistance, and the guards started to experience more complications, with the sabotaging of a section of the wall delaying its construction, and increased cooperation between the prisoners, distributing food to those too weak to work.
Prometh’s sole condition for the trouble his men and he caused was to assure, as best as they could, that the casualties among the prisoner population would remain to a minimum, a major hindrance to most of their operations involving the delaying of construction.
One day, when the tunnel was nearing its end, Ganis approached Prometh, seated on a large table in a clearing they had prepared within the Pits of Carcer, and asked, “How fares the resistance?” The phrase has become a greeting of sorts among members of the resistance.
“Our numbers grow, but it’s becoming difficult to feed all these mouths. We need a sustainable source of food, Ganis from Nosgard. No matter how much we work the quarries, it’ll soon not be enough.” Prometh rubbed his head, a habit he had gained after meeting Ganis.
“During my imprisonment in Gallecia I’ve seen some of the prisoners eat rats. It became a profession of sorts. They called those who raised the pests ‘rat farmers’.”
“You never mentioned that you were imprisoned before.”
“Aye.” Spending time with Prometh and the other Forhaveners made Ganis partly adopt their accents. It was a habit she realized too late to stop, and never tried to unlearn. “It was a brief incarceration a long time ago, just before the Second Civil War ended.”
Prometh produced a short hum. He then leaned back on his chair, a crude structure made from salvaged wood resting on a stone seat. “Rats it is then. We have an abundance of those anyway. It might be difficult to convince the men to eat them, but the hunger should do the trick.”
“Aye.” Ganis paused. For long she had contemplated the moment when she would leave the prisoners behind, hoping that enough of them would decide to remain to support the effort. She thought that escape would be selfish, but took consonance in knowing that Hephaestion would disagree.
“There’s one more thing, Prometh.”
“What is it?”
“Once the tunnel is complete, I’ll have to leave.”
“I know.”
He raised his arms behind his head and placed both feet on the table, bending one knee to support his unnatural seating position. “I thought it was what we agreed upon when we started this quest of ours.” He looked at the jagged rocks hanging above him, contemplating their natural beauty, and said, “The resistance. What was once a dream, a simple distant hope, has become a growing movement.”
He looked back to Ganis, smiling. “Without your encouragement it wouldn’t have been possible. I can’t force the men to stay, not that I would want to if I could, but something tells me that enough will stay to help out with the effort.”
“I’m glad that you lead them. Most would take advantage of this position to have the prisoners do as they wish—”
“Are you surprised?” Ganis took a moment to answer, her hesitation prompted his response. “That answers my question.”
She smiled. “I was trying to recall the times I saw it otherwise.”
“I’m certain you were.”
“The library, Prometh,” she said.
“What about it?”
“You must preserve it.”
“Have we not discussed it before? It’s as useful an asset to us as it is to you. We’ll do what we can.”
“You must!” Ganis was uncertain about the cause of her attachment to the library. She was grateful for the ancient artifact which helped her regain her sanity and freedom, yet also part of her inclination was caused by the importance Nosgardians attributed to knowledge, especially after the Council’s fall.”
Prometh looked at her, eyes staring intensely. “It’ll be prioritized over all other goals, partly because of the promise I gave you and partly because without the Pits of Carcer there’s no resistance. If the library is destroyed, Ganis from Nosgard, so are we.”
6
During the second season of the resistance, the real resistance started by Ganis and Prometh, the prisoners of Initium Keep had dug their way out of captivity. With nothing barring her path from reuniting with the Parthans, wherever they may be, Ganis had to resist the urge of immediate escape to coordinate the activities of the resistance with the Parthans’ plan.
Ganis and Prometh stood by the side of the mountain, watching a view of the distant shores of the mainland ahead of them. Initium Keep was situated on an island north of Scyldur. Her journey back would be a long one, with much of it spent in hostile lands, unless the Midland-Highborn efforts had considerable success.
The shores were quiet and the seas calm. Gentle waves caressed the sand, producing a sound that had grown strange to Ganis’ ears, and made her revel at the sight. “We finally did it.”
Prometh, still smiling, said, “It has been many years since I last saw the blue color of the seas. I had almost forgotten what it looked like.”
A gust of wind bearing the smell of sea blew across their dirt-covered faces, blowing through Ganis’ braided yellow hair and the few strands that came undone while she dug. Prometh lowered his bald head to sooth it with the fresh sea air.
“When do you intend to announce the tunnel’s completion?” asked Ganis.
Prometh raised his head and glanced at Ganis, quickly returning his eyes to the demanding sight. “The other diggers must have already informed everyone in the pits. I doubt it’ll take them longer than the time needed to reach the other end.”
“It’ll be difficult to keep it from others, from saving so many lives.”
“Aye, it will. I just hope that their sacrifices will not be in vain. Promise me that you will do your best to come back quickly.”
She paused for a moment, remembering how Asclepius had warned her of giving promises she was not certain she could keep. Times have changed. “I promise.”
Prometh nodded.
“How will you know when to strike?”
“Aliis and Aliud will let us know when the time comes. I trust them above all else in such matters.”
“Your trust is well placed.” She looked at Prometh for one last time, and said, “It’ll take you time to prepare a safe route out.” Ganis pointed at the irregular mountain slope. It would be a difficult descent, dangerous to even the most skilled climbers. “You’ll need stairs or ropes.”
“Aye, we will.”
Ganis held her hand to Prometh. He looked at it, smiled, and shook it.
“Till we meet again, Prometh from Forhaven.”
“Till we meet again, Ganis from Nosgard, and till the resistance fares well.”
Ganis jumped.